


Rust and honey

by AugustVale



Category: DC Extended Universe, Gotham (TV)
Genre: AU, Alliances, Angst, Annoyance, Awkwardness, Betrayal, Between Episodes, Canon Divergent, Character Death, Confusion, Crimes & Criminals, Dating, Embarrassment, Fluff, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Oswald needs to sort out his feelings, Pain, Sassy Oswald Cobblepot, Sassy Victor, Season/Series 05, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Spoilers, Touching, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Vulnerability, canon–typical violence, mention of Nygmobblepot, smut later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-10-12 19:30:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17473625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AugustVale/pseuds/AugustVale
Summary: Gotham is on the brink of total anarchy and cut off from the outside world. The villains have taken claim on various regions of the city. Now everyone is on their own. Zsasz is back and is willing to work together with his dear Penguin.Now it’s their task to function together.This takes place during season 5.





	1. Réunion

Victor braced himself against the sink, waiting for the alcohol to hit his system, wondering if the effects were, at this point, placebic. Less emotion and more misplaced hope. For calm. For time. For numbness.  
He pushed off the counter and returned to the bedroom, to the dresser, to the shallow stack of newspapers there, Oswald’s face staring up from the top.  
Victor stared at the picture for a long moment, then crumpled the paper and flung it away.  
Sofia was dead.  
No one wanted to hire him anymore.  
1 month, 7 days.  
He straightened. Anyone had looked at him with a sense of fear, once, but now he was just useless. He collapsed onto the cream leather sofa, laughter bubbling across his lips. The city stretched beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, glittering in the last shards of light. It was a cold and small penthouse. Victor had never wanted to life so exposed, but his girls had thought it was lovely and since Don Falcone has given it to him, he slowly saw it’s charm. Especially now that the blood had been scrubbed out. A few stubborn flecks remained, but Victor didn’t mind them. No, they were reminders of what he’d done. What he was capable of doing. Enemies reduced to staines under his feet.

The girls were out for a few days, so he had the place all for himself. He had bought pizza a while ago, because it usually cheered him up. And then he noticed it. He was not afraid to die. Not anymore. Everyone could come in at this point and hold a gun at him and he would sit there and let it happen.  
He raised himself from the sofa, feeling that every bit of his body felt numb. He softly smiled to himself. The next moment he stood in his bathroom. He stepped up to the tub, his knees resting against the porcelain front as he looked down at the shimmering surface.  
Victor ran his fingers through the ice water, and recoiled. The feeling was very familiar.  
He used to bath in ice to teach himself discipline, but now it was different. Testing the limits of your body always has been a game he used to play with himself when he found the time to. In the last time he hadn’t had the time for himself.  
Victor tugged of his jeans, his sweater and finally his shirt, exposing a series of scars that hatched his skin. A few were old, worn to little more than shadows. Theses were the ones he had started with.  
He hadn’t known how deep to cut and back than he hadn’t liked the pain.  
Zsasz lifted one bare foot to the rim of the bath, gazing down at the contents. He took a short breath before he climbed into the tub. A small groan escaped between clenched teeth when his body first broke the surface of the icy water.  
The pain that had sparked through his body at the beginning had faded quickly into a pain that pierced through his body like sharp knifes.

He only climbed out as the pink turned into a very unhealthy shade of whitish-blue. As he wrapped a towel over his shivering body he felt reborn. The feeling came slowly back. He hadn’t cared enough to put on some clothes. Now he was sitting on the soft pillows again, eating the now cold pepperoni pizza. And he felt happy.  
———  
The building was a ruin, the tangle of stone still shifting and settling, as Victor climbed out of the wreckage. Dust and glass rained down around him as he pried open a door, found a back stairwell intact, and climbed. The door at the top opened onto a parking garage. Sirens wailed in the distance as he strode across the concrete toward the side street.  
Amazing how quickly the mind went down old paths. Victor felt calm, in control, his thoughts ticking off with soothing linearity. Gotham has shattered in only one day, turned itself into a nightmare.  
But now it was building itself from the ashes. The new day had come and had not only given Victor, but many more a chance to shape their lifes.  
Things only settled a few month into the chaos. Everyone with a name and enough power had taken a piece.  
As Victor stepped over the remnants of torn down houses, he could still smell the coppery smell in the cold evening breeze. The weak had no position in this city and he was surely no one of them. He hadn’t slept since madness has taken over and had acted. He had chosen not to be a fucking sidekick anymore.

„So what we gonna do now?“ one of his girls asked, stepping out of a side street.  
„Making some connections! Would you clear the area?“, he said placing his guns back into the holsters by his sides.  
The woman made a quick salute and disappeared into another building. Victor couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the gesture. He had won over a district in the upper east of Gotham, which made him kind of proud, seeing that the Sirens had a much smaller piece.

Victor knew exactly what to do now. He had planned this since he heard about the bridges. The walk had been relatively boring, when he reached the mansion. The lights were dimmed, but he could still see shadows walk behind curtains. Victor was very impressed, that the building seemed to be untouched. It seemed like a different world from were he was standing.  
But he knew he had no time to be here. He had counted seven guards outside and almost twenty inside.  
Victor smiled with an amused expression and stepped back into the shadows. It was too easy to get inside. While he had worked for penguin he had studied almost every room and entrance.

He found himself in a bright room, after he had climbed through a window in the back. The first face he saw was the face of a man he had seen in Arkham. This man was a doctor or something. He was leaning over what seemed to be a dead body. And then, after a few minutes, Strange noticed him.  
Those cold, dark eyes slid past the room and landed on Victor. Surprise flickered across Strange‘s face, and then sank away, replaced by a grim smile as the barrel of a gun came up against the base of Victor‘s spine, and Penguin‘s hoarse voice sounded from behind him.

„What the hell do you think you are doing, Zsasz?“. The taller man smiled shortly. He had expected nothing less from the Penguin. As to mock the other man he raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The small man pressed the gun even more into Victor‘s back.  
„Just wanna talk, boss,“ he finally said. Realizing his mistake immediately, but not correcting himself. Penguin went quiet for a few minutes, probably thinking about what to do next.  
„Why do you believe I would want to talk to you?“, Penguin said, this time without raising his voice.  
Soon he could feel the gun being withdrawn and turned to face his former boss. Oh god he had missed him.  
He watched as Oswald crossed the room to sit down in one of the chairs next to the fireplace.  
„I want to talk to you alone,“ Victor added, staying at the exact same spot.  
„Honestly, Victor, I don’t care what you want!“ Oswald snapped. His natural instinct to assume an insult was meant, and anger flared up in him instantly.  
Victor knew that he shouldn’t anger the little bird even more. He had no time for a conflict. He just tipped his head slightly to one side and waited for something to happen.  
Then after what could have been half an hour the penguin waved the doctor out with a sour expression.  
Strange didn’t wait long. He quickly left the room and closed the big doors behind him. 

Oswald heard the heeled dress shoes move closer, as the doors had closed, stopping next to the couch. He looked up at the bald man who towered over him, looking down without the slightest hint of emotion.  
„I’m here to make a deal.“ Victor offered, shifting to sit down on the coffee table in front of the Penguin, who blinked surprised. Oswald was always thrown off by Victor‘s mannerisms. The man was bizarre, but now it had been his words that had surprised him.  
„I have finally my own part of this city and I want to help you to get more power.“  
Oswald almost choked on the wine he had just nipped on. As he coughed his eyes shot to Victor‘s. He was sure Victor was tricking him.  
„Why would you want that?“  
„I don’t know! Don’t you think it’s fun to see everyone else burn.“  
„Ah.“  
Penguin knew Victor had other reasons, but the more important question was his next one.  
„What do you want in return?“  
Victor showed him his toothy smile. „I want your trust!“  
Oswald couldn’t help but smile.  
„That is way too easy! Are you sure that you are not here to kill me?“  
The hitman started tapping with his fingers against his thigh. He seemed to become a bit restless.  
„If you don’t want the deal then i‘m on my way!“ he announced, getting to his feet.

„Why did you want to talk alone, Victor?“, the smaller man continued, as Zsasz reached the window.  
„Because I wasn’t planning to tell anyone, if you wanted to make the deal. It is always helpful to have a backup plan.“  
Their eyes met across the room. The penguin tried his best to read Victor’s face, but the other man was like a statue, not the slightest hint of any human emotion.  
„Please think about it. You know how to find me,“ He said, now with a much more soft voice. The next moment he had stepped back into the shadows of the trees outside and didn’t look back. On the way back through the darkness he knew that the Penguin wasn’t going to make the deal, but that was ok for now.  
——————  
88 days had passed since he first went to see Pinguin. Victor hoisted himself up onto the windowsill, thankful that someone had left it open, and that City Hall only had two floors and thus he was only forced to contend with the five steps‘ worth of height leading from the street up to the building‘s entrance. He paused on the sill, straddling it and listened for sounds within the apartment. The place was quiet, but Victor knew Oswald was home. He could *feel* him.  
His heart fluttered gently with the thrill of what would happen next, but that was all it was, a flutter. No hint of panic. This new calm, that was overtaking his nerves since he had won over his territory and with that more power than he had ever had, was becoming unsettling. Victor struggled to assess it. The absence of fear led to a disregard for consequence. He could track his thoughts better now, marveled at the way they circled round to solutions that bypassed caution and favored the immediate, the violent, the rash, the way a crippled man favors his good leg. Victor‘s mind had always been drawn to those solutions, but he had been impeded by an understanding of right and wrong, or at least what he knew others saw as right and wrong. But now, this was simple. Elegant. He shook his head. Power was not what he wanted.  
Victor stepped out of the room and made his way gingerly down a corridor to the room, which must be penguin‘s office. After a few seconds he opened the door quietly and sneaked inside. The room was almost empty. In the Centre stood a table with some documents, which looked like maps of Gotham. As for Oswald himself, Victor could see him on an armchair at the head of the room, head bowed forward in thought, or maybe prayer. He had never asked him, if he was religious.  
Victor paused a moment to watch him. It always seemed odd that Oswald couldn’t sense Victor‘s presence the way Victor could sense everyone around him.  
Self—absorbed to the last, he thought as he took up a gun from the table infringement of the Penguin, unloading it‘s contents onto the floor.  
Oswald stood up from his chair in an almost fluid motion.  
„Victor!“. His voice was laced with pain, as he sat down again, slowly.  
„You know, I‘m disappointed!“, Victor said moving around the table, clearly invading the smaller man‘s personal space.  
„I believe it was quiet clear that I don’t want your deal! Why are you here?“  
„Oh, it wasn’t. I just thought that was part of your personality“, he answered, teeth gleaming as he smiled,“ You have been an annoying brat, lately. I’m not that much into sharing either, but you are getting fat.“  
„How dare you,Victor!?“  
Oswald ground his teeth together and clenched his jaw angrily, as he tried to stand again. Victor just placed a single hand to the birds chest and pressed him into the soft material of the chair, as he sat down onto the corner of the table, one leg dangling in the air.  
„But I am not here to teach you simple manners.“, he paused leaning a back, stretching ,“I’m here to hear your decision.“  
„And you believe that threatening me will lead to...“, he spat before being interrupted by Victor.  
„As I said, I am nowhere near threatening you!“, Victor added, growing a bit annoyed.  
Penguin looked at him for a moment. The other man had never interrupted him before. He used to stand in the background and listened, but the smaller man wasn’t thrown off so easily. He decided to let it slide. Oswald was not in a condition to have a fight with his former hitman.  
„I need to think!“, the little Bird announced angrily, turning away from the taller man. Silence spread across the room, as Victor waited. He did not move, which seemed to make the penguin even more uncomfortable.  
Victor knew that Oswald had meant for him to leave, but he wasn’t quiet finished, yet.

Victor took his time to slide to his feet and stretch, before he went down on his knee infringe of Cobblepot, who stared at him in blank shock.  
„What in hell are you doing?“  
„I heard they shot you in the leg.“ Victor said, trying to put enough empathy into his voice. He said it softly. Hopefully good enough. He let it sink in. Oswald clearly understood, because he stayed quiet. He was listening. Victor had his attention, and he liked that.  
„I would like to take a look.“  
„I don’t need your pity, Zsasz!“ Penguin still looked at him with a sour expression, but his tone was tiered.  
„I only want to take a look! I have been shot a few times. Maybe I can help,“ explained Victor, lightly putting his hands so he could pull the pant’s fabric up.  
„You are a freaking mystery to me, Victor.“ Oswald’s voice was nothing more than a whisper. After a few more minutes he nodded, still a little unsure, but what could he lose?  
The hitman‘s hands were gentle. Oswald was caught by surprise. He would have never, out off all character traits, chosen anything like gentle for Victor. Maybe cruel, emotionless and even humorless.

He could feel how Zsasz pulled his foot onto his lap. Oswald clinched at the table,biting back a scream. The pain was horrific, as if every muscle in his body had cramped. As if he were being electrocuted. The next moment Oswald was left gasping, dazed. As he looked down he could see that Victor had finished rolling up the fabric and was now looking at his wound. The way that the taller man looked reminded him of his dear mother, Gertrud. It felt not like pity but understanding. Sadness overflowed his senses. The only person, who understood him, loved him without any selfish reasons, was now two meters in the ground.  
„What a shame. It was healed, right?“ Victor traced the edge with a fingertip, not wanting to infect it and making it worse. Penguin looked at him, wanting to see only him, not his mother. This was not the time to be sentimental.  
„I have some medicine, my girls gave me when the cops shot me.“  
He put the bandage back over the leg and pulled the fabric back down. He heard the man above him wince and slightly pull away, as the wool of his pants slid back over his leg.  
„Fine,“ Oswald growled, smoothing the material of his suit pants.  
The other man looked up at him, with a hint of confusion. He didn‘t know if Victor has planned to convince him like this. But, if it had been like that, he had been way too easy to crack, he was weak when it came to his mother, still.  
„Do not try to betray me again, Victor!“ Oswald knew that this was a horrible decision. He should have been more stubborn.  
This should have been a gift. Victor was the best man he had ever hired and everyone feared him.  
„Sure!“, Victor said again in his usual monoton tone. With that he turned and walked to the window. In less than a second Oswald was alone again. He shook his head. Why had he allowed Victor to touch him, even after what he had done to him.  
His chest tightened. He felt dirty.  
„Stand by me, mother. Some dreams,“he said,“are harder to shake.“ 

He was wrapped into darkness, as he blew out the candle that was standing on his working desk.It was when he saw it. The little box of pain killers stood at the edge of his papers. But he knew today was not the day he would forgive Victor.


	2. Trust

The building reminded Victor of jagged teeth, a broken mouth icing into wounded sky. I was dusk, that time when day collapsed into something darker, when even human minds gave way to primal things. He stood in a empty hall, looking out, just the way others had done so many times. They used to be important people. He didn’t know if they were already dead, killed when the bridges crashed, but he really didn’t care. Now it was him standing here.

The office occupied a corner of the building once called City Hall. His black clothing blended with the twilight, while his face shone white as bone, and his eyes swallowed by darkness. As night swept through, his reflection grew solid in the glass of the cold windows.  
The sun didn’t set, no light seeped in from the south, nothing fogging the image lika a haze. Gotham had no room for light. The thick sheet of clouds seemed unbreakable.  
He rapped a nail thoughtfully against the glass, tapping out a steady rhythm, the pace of a ticking clock. He knew he had all the time he needed. It was just like a game. A game he didn’t want to win, but he knew who should. Who he wanted to win.

It was not long until he grew annoyed by his own reflection.  
Down the hall and behind a door, Oswald walked in circles.  
He listened to the sound of Oswald’s steps in the other room, slow and soft and a bit uneven as dripping water. He‘d heard a glass break, heard the sound of the tap running, and then again, the steps. Only tones reaching him through the walls. And then, quiet. The noise of Oswald‘s pacing replaced by an odd stillness.  
Victor didn’t trust stillness. He had come to believe that it was a bad thing. A wrong, unnatural, dead thing.  
He stood still, his eyes focused on the door, stretching to hear through the wood and silence beyond. When still nothing greeted him, he slowly turned the knob and pulled the door open.   
„Knock, knock!“  
Oswald‘s hand was now draped over the arm of a couch facing the windows, a shallow glass dangling loosely from his fingers, only a sip‘s worth of liquid left inside, and most of it melted ice. Victor tiptoed around the couch to face him.  
He was asleep.  
He didn’t look peaceful, but his breathing was low, even. Victor perched on a chair and considered the man he had betrayed a while ago, because of all the wrong reasons. He felt something like shame. But he knew why he had done it. Done it because he had searched for the person, who could be the human Don Falcon had been for him.  
He wondered who Oswald was, and if anyone could be afraid of him. In his sleep he looked so much younger. Almost like a painting in a church.  
So he slowly sat down onto the leather chair and watched Oswald sleep, as if the frown lines that lingered even now would rearrange and tell all his secrets.

When the penguin woke he found Victor sitting next to him, carving up his skin.  
„What the f-ff!“, he yelped, dropping his glass, covering the floor in tiny glass pieces.  
„How long have you been sitting there?“, he asked shaking, fear and panic still scribbled over him as his vision became clear, the shadows of his dreams disappearing.  
„Long enough,“ murmured Zsasz reverently as he drew the blade up his arm, a blossom of appearing red.  
„J-just don‘t get that on my chair, or the floor.“  
Victor paused midcut. „You look awful!“  
Oswald shrugged „I‘ve been thinking.“  
„The body doesn’t survive on thoughts.“  
„As if you care what I do,“ and the smaller man snapped.  
Victor felt silent, but began to move the blade along his skin again. Penguin couldn’t stand the sigh of Victor marking himself and turned away quickly, facing the window and coal darkness beyond the glass.  
„They have left to go to Jim Gordon,“ he muttered after several moments.  
„I know!“ The hitman didn’t know what the Penguin wanted from him. Pity? Empathy? He had never been good with emotions. To him every human was nothing more than a zombie. Everyone was more or less dead inside, but Oswald was different. He was the definition of all kind of emotions. He felt something and acted on it. For many people it seemed like a curse, but Victor saw the beauty that came with these raw emotions.

„Even Edward is gone,“ Cobblepot said under his breath. ”He went willingly.”  
Victor stopped. “Nygma?” He considered Oswald, head cocked.  
“Oh course not. My dog!”  
Victor hesitated. “Forget that dog. I have a plan, but we need to wait until you look presentable again, “he said at last. “At least wait till you’re feeling better.”  
“Actually, I’m feeling fine. Better than. I feel wonderful. I feel like roses and sunshine and glitter.”  
Oswald Cobblepot did not feel like glitter. His muscles arched, his leg still felt strangely wobbly, and he couldn’t shake the headache that had trailed him since he had found out.  
“You’ll get your revenge soon and it’s going to be fun. Alright?”   
There was nothing wrong with the words, but the penguin didn’t like like the way he said them, the same calm, cautious tone people use when they want to let someone down slowly, smoothing a “no” into a “not right now”. Something was wrong. And Victor’s attention was already drifting back towards the knife he was now cleaning. Away from Oswald.  
He clenched his teeth against the curse on his tongue. And then he shrugged carefully.  
“Why are you even here, Victor?” His eyes tore from the glass to gazed at Victor, who had his eyes closed. He almost looked asleep.  
“Just watching over your sweet ass”, said Victor with feigned calm and a cool smile.  
“I should cut out your freaking tongue!” The bird’s cheeks are suddenly kissed pink like a spring rose, the blooming color so cute against his freckled skin.  
“I’d like to see you try.” His smile grows brighter now, even though his eyes are still closed.  
Oswald has never seen such a thing from Victor. This smile is the gentlest and most genuine gesture he has ever seen. He would love to see him smile more. At the same time he felt like drowning. Drowning in living waters. A river of unhappiness.

“I’m out. I have to get some shit done,” shrugged Victor, stretching. Oswald abruptly looked away, not wanting to get caught staring.  
“And you can go back to drown yourself in self pity.”  
He was on his feet in an second. Copplepot only let out a low, hard breath at the comment. Another beat of silence.  
“Get out, Victor. I’m tired,” he said.  
Victor considered him. He knew the other men was gone when the freezing air hit him. The little man tensed and stood up to close the window. This was a nightmare.  
————————  
It was when he heard Penguin’s lovely screaming voice through the megaphone, that he knew that it had begun. Everything was working just fine. He fired one warning shot and could hear them run. God he had missed this feeling. The fear and confusion that filled the air like thick black smoke. Then the second and the third.  
“Pretty cosy up here. Thank you guys”, he shouted. This was just perfect.

Victor was appreciating the fine quality of the GCPD interrogation room as Oswald’s men came to get him. That day he almost died twice. But it had been the had had the most fun in a long time.

 

“What do you want from me?”  
Victor stood at the bathroom sink, pushing the sleeves of his coat up to wash his hands. He had turned the faucet on, when he heard the door open over the sound of the water. His form filled the mirror, edge to edge, so he couldn’t see the man behind him, but he didn’t need to. He could have had identified this screaming voice everywhere.  
“What do you mean?” Victor turned the water off, but stayed at the sink.  
“Why don’t you run from me?”  
He wiped his hands on his coat and turned to face the other man.  
“Look I’m tired,” he said with a shrug.  
“No,” snapped Oswald. “What do you know?”  
Victor forced a laugh, walking past the penguin toward the door. “What do want to-“  
He heard Oswald draw the gun from his coat, and his words cut off as his steps slowed, then stopped. Cobblepot cocked the weapon. Victor could tell it was an automatic by the metallic granting of the top half as it was shifted back and primed. He turned slowly toward the sound. The gun was in Oswald’s hand , but instead of being trained on Victor, it hung at Oswald’s side. The little guy wanted to look casual, even scary. It would have made everyone else nervous, the way he held the weapon, fingers barely gripping it, not only comfortable with the gun, but in control. But he didn’t look like he felt in control. His whole body was shaking.  
Why aren’t you scared of me?” said Oswald. “Why do you care for me?”  
Victor cocked his head and tugged one corner os his mouth up.  
“Why do you need to know?”  
“Say it!” Oswald screamed, so loud it made his ears ring.  
Victor’s smile faded. Oswald raised the gun, and took him in over the sight.  
Zsasz thought to feign ignorance, but in the end he decided not to chance it. He’d never been that great at telling lies, anyway, and he knew he’d have to make the few he needed count.  
“Let’s sit down. I promise I won’t run.”  
“You are a freaking liar, Victor,” growled Oswald, fingers drifting toward the trigger.  
Victor shrugged, but slid a step back.  
Oswald took a step forward, settled his finger against the trigger.  
“I have no patience for you, you know?” Oswald’s eyes narrowed. He twirled the gun in his hand, the barrel fetching up against his palm, and swung the handle hard against Victor’s head. His face cracked sideways, and blood poured from the gash above his eye, running into his vision. But the little bird was too close. Victor grabbed him by the arm, one eye closed, and took the weapon from his sweaty hands.

The steam from his cup of hot chocolate had colored his nose tip a light pink. He was still grumpy. Victor had put a patch with a Star Wars logo over his eye, while he had made hot chocolate.   
“Thanks,” he whispered.  
“I’m still angry, ya?” Victor leaned on a table. He watched as Oswald’s eyes got wide with surprise.  
“You should have told me that you had a spare guillotine lying around. I would have had the time of my life.”  
Silence.  
“You know”, said Victor, “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”  
Penguin scoffed.  
“Why aren’t you scared of me?” pressed Oswald.  
Victor’s gaze was cold, his voice even.  
“You said you would trust me. Hurting someone you trust would be like backstabbing yourself, right?”  
Oswald lowered himself into the wooden chair as Victor went on.   
“Some things are going to happen. You should trust me!”  
The smaller man drew a crumbled piece of paper from his pocket and smoothed it.  
“If you want me to trust you, Victor, you should sent me more than a piece of paper next time,” he shouted, “team up Jim, be extra, provoke Jim and a winky face are simply not enough.  
Of course it hadn’t been enough. Victor knew that Penguin had been alone these days. Someone had made all these people go boom, but he had known that it couldn’t have been Zsasz.   
“But I think it’s very sexy to see you angry.”  
Oswald rolled his eyes. “You think this Alvarez is handsome.”  
“Yeah.”  
The smaller man raised a brow. “He is looking like a douchbag.”  
Victor smiled. “And I think your sweet Nygma looks like a cheese stick. Like the ones that-“  
“Enough! Shut up Zsasz,” Penguin said, raising his voice again. He jumped up, almost throwing is mug onto the ground.  
“Victor,” the hitman corrected.  
“What?”  
“You should call me Victor.”  
“I don’t care,” he screamed even louder, “get lost Zsasz. I’m going home.”  
He hadn’t finished screaming when he was already out of the door, leaving the apartment. The cold air hit him like a truck.

As Victor set his feet on the street he could still see the other man. He hadn’t come far with his leg and he was breathing heavy. Oswald tried to calm himself. This ignorance was just too much for him. This is not how it should have happened. Victor should be dead by now. And then he felt the presence of someone next to him. He almost jumped into the next wall. It was Victor.  
“Why are you following me?” Oswald knew he had found hell. At least he had found found something.  
“Isn’t that crazy? What a coincidence that we are taking the same way,” Victor said, looking at Oswald with wide eyes.  
Cobblepot’s clenched his jaw. Silence filled the air beneath them.  
Victor loved silence. It was never truly silent. Gotham never slept.  
But he loved it when Oswald was so awfully quiet. He knew the other man was probably overthinking again. When he wasn’t at somebody’s throat, he was in his head. That cute, little head filled with pain and self doubt. It was a shame. It was a shame that Victor wasn’t able to help him.  
“Is that snow,” Oswald asked, with a soft voice now. As Zsasz looked up he saw the small snowflakes sailing through the sky and landing on the dirty streets. It was not long until the floor was covered by a thin blanket of white.  
“It’s gone by morning.”  
“Yes. I know!” The penguin was looking at him with a sour expression.  
“I didn’t want to criticize your taste in people.”  
“Well, you did.”  
“And I am pretty sure I was right.”  
“You are a coward!” Oswald responded, waddling faster.  
“Ok.”  
“Don’t ok me now,” he stopped,”I was all alone, when they blew my people, as you would say, sky high. And you are sitting at home, writing me a freaking note? I’m not your slave.”  
Victor looked at him. This little bird meant the world to him.  
“Don’t you want to defend yourself? Fine.” He turned back and kept walking. Then he stopped again.  
“And stop copying Edward. You have never been the smart one.” 

“I left you that note because I wanted you to be angry. It was authentic how you reacted to seeing me. That was the plan.”  
“Nice of you to use me.”  
Victor rolled his eyes. He wanted to say many things. This was not fair. Penguin always forgave Nygma. But it was him walking at Oswald’s side right now.  
“I thought we could be friends,” Oswald added.  
“I don’t think we could if you are not going to share your toys with me.”  
“That’s the new deal. You have my trust,” Oswald was shivering,” You share your plans with me and I show you my gifts from the museum.”  
“Oh what you want.”  
Oswald caught a snowflake, before it landed on his face. It watched as it melted in his hand.   
“You are not like Edward, Victor. You care and I am thankful for that.”  
“At least you have some manners.”  
“Please remind me to stab you when I see you again.”  
“I’m sure I don’t have to do that,” Victor chuckled. It was a strange gesture. He looked like a shark when he showed his teeth, but his voice was soft.  
“And I am not sorry for taping your mouth shut. That was fun.”  
“That was hella kinky.”  
“You have to ruin everything, don’t you?”  
“I mean like... yeah!”  
“That was a rhetorical question.”  
“Oh.”  
Victor had to force his eyes away from the small man. He noticed that they were almost there.  
“How did you know I would take your orders? I’m curious how you knew I would bring you to City Hall?”  
“I didn’t. You said you would trust me and that’s it. And you are pretty extra so it was clear that you would make a public execution.”  
“And why should Jim Gordon help me,” he asked, brows furrowed.  
“You gave him a good reason.”  
“Yes right.” They both came to a stop as the mansion came into view. This place was way too dangerous for Victor and they both knew.  
Oswald blinked a snowflake from his lashes and looked up to meet Victor’s gaze.  
“And your last words,” said Oswald, lowering his eyes.  
“They were pretty great. But if you want to know try again.”  
“Believe me, I will! And I will succeed.”  
He looked to the away again and at the apartment. Victor followed his gesture.  
“You want to kiss,” he asked sarcastically. He knew very well that Oswald was not ready yet, but he wanted to see him react.  
Cobblepot slowly looked back up with a dangerous look in his eyes and a soft blush on his cheeks.  
“Sadly Ed isn’t here.”  
“Oh burn.” Victor laughed. He hadn’t expected that, but it was better than the other options.  
Oswald just punished him into the chest. His eyes narrowed as he let out a low breath and marched toward City Hall.  
A memory washed over him, of one night. Of Gertrud’s voice in his ear, telling him not to run. Of the days he had played in the snow, and his mother by his side. Of the sadness in her voice when she told him to find somewhere safe. Somewhere, which had once been someone. Edward.  
But Edward-  
Some part of him had known. Had to have known.  
Oswald felt like he was going to scream. Instead he made his way through the snow. He could now feel that Edward was not the one he should have trusted that way.  
Oswald’s steps slowed, the initial wave of shock settling into something heavier. He looked back.  
“Why did you accept to lose all of your dignity, just to give me more power?” He hadn’t meant to receive an answer. Jim had lied to him. Edward had lied when he said he would do anything for him. And Victor had been lying every day since Falcon was killed. So would he want another answer.  
“Why will you not forgive me,” Victor asked in return. He held his gaze. Victor only sighed, when Penguin remained silent. The question didn’t seem to take him by surprise, but he didn’t answer it either.  
“I should go inside.”  
A soft sound, somewhere between an exhale and a laugh.  
Oswald felt hollow, worn out, when he scrambled back into the silence of his home. But he couldn’t abandon Victor. It felt so normal talking to him. He felt like a friend. He was all that was left- he had helped him, giving him something to work with. Hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by bury a friend by Billie Eilish. Thanks for reading!


	3. Shut up and dance with me

Oswald thought he was going to die. This was not the first time. He couldn’t breath. But he knew it was just panic. He wasn’t going to die. He had felt the panic begin like a cluster of spark plugs in his abdomen. Tension grew in his face and limbs.  
“I don’t want to die”, he breathed. This was worse than ever before. He frantically shoved a book of the table in front of him. He felt like the room was getting smaller and smaller with every breath he took. His breathing had become more rapid, more shallow.  
His hand clenched his chest where his heart should be. It was thudding like it was going to explode. He could hear it. It was drowning every noise around him. He wanted his thoughts to slow so he could breath, but they didn’t.

“Please”. He wasn’t talking to someone. No one was in the room. At least not that he knew. By now his vision was disfigured. He looked down at his shaking hands, but he couldn’t feel them. They were numb. Blood pounded in his ears.  
He had to get away. He had to get away quickly.  
He wrapped his arms so tight around him that he couldn’t breath, his nails digging into his sides. Breathing was so hard. He cried harder, his chest growing tight as bile rose in his throat. And now he felt dizzy. The room was spinning around him. He felt so sick. He squatted on the floor. He breathed all wrong, beginning to gasp like there’s not enough oxygen in the air.  
He felt so sick. He could see that his fingers were digging into the carpet. His chest hurt so much he wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. Then he heard it.

“Please look at me.” Victor was sitting on the floor in front of him. Oswald couldn’t see his expression clearly.  
“I- I ... please,” the small man shuttered, feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks. He didn’t want to be like this. He didn’t want Victor to see him like this. He was a mess.  
“Please count with me, Oswald.”  
The words didn’t make sense for Oswald at the moment but he nodded shakily.  
Victor nodded very slowly back, watching his little bird.  
“One, Two, three, six, 25, eleven.”  
Oswald felt so dumb. He couldn’t focus. He didn’t even know the second number as Victor had finished. He wanted to run.  
“One, Two, Three, six..,” he said again, this time more slowly.  
“O-one,” Oswald breathed, gasping for air,”Two, Three, six.”  
“Ok. One, Two, Three, six, 25, eleven.”  
“One, Two, Three,” he stopped again, thinking,” six, 25.”  
This shouldn’t be so difficult. What was wrong with him?  
“One,Two, Three, six, 25,” Oswald looked up at Victor’s lips. Trying to find the right number. Victor smiled softly and mouthed “eleven”.  
“One, Two, Three, six, 25, eleven.” As he finished he saw that the room had stopped spinning. He looked down at his hands and opened them a few times. It was over, but now the felt very exhausted.

He felt that Victor grabbed him under his arms and sat him into one of his big armchairs. He leaned back and let out a deep breath. He was not going to die. Not today.  
He sat there for a few minutes with his eyes closed, just breathing in and out.  
“How are you feeling,” Victor asked. His voice was not longer far away anymore. As Oswald opened his eyes he saw that the hitman was kneeling in front of him, looking up.  
“I’m feeling wonderful, Victor,” he snapped. Victor’s expression softened. 

“Why are you here?” he added, ignoring the headache. He couldn’t sleep right now.  
“I think that doesn’t matter right now,” he let out a shaky breath. This was not like Victor. He seemed nervous.  
“You know some days everybody breaks, every part of themselves, until nothing is left,” he took another breath,”what I mean is, don’t blame yourself, when something happens to the people you...”  
Victor stopped, searching for a word.  
“Love?” Oswald held his gaze. “How did you know it was because of Ed?”  
“I was going just coming in as I heard your little discussion.” His eyes were cold as he said it. Colder as Oswald was used to.  
Of course Victor has seen Ed enter the house. But this was not the thing that bothered him. It was the way Oswald has looked at him. So much love.  
His mind drifted. Now the other man’s eyes were fixed on something in the distance, beyond the walls, beyond the city. A cold anger burned in them, but it seemed directed inward, at himself.

“Do you think it’s my fault that Ed did this?”, said Oswald at last with a sad tone. Victor glanced at him.  
Oswald’s attention was still pointedly somewhere else.  
“No,” answered Victor without hesitation.  
“You could be wrong.” At last, he looked at Zsasz, who cocked his head.  
Oswald scowled. Then, “Well it’s done now, so why bother?” The words rang through Oswald’s chest, echoing chords. There was no pity in his voice. There was nothing at all.

The words landed, as Victor knew they would. Oswald was staring at him, waiting for the twist, the turn.  
“I want to take you out.”  
The penguin’s gasp was soft, almost inaudible, but it ripples through the room. He looked, now, at him as he inhaled in shock.  
Victor slowly stood up, the little smirk back on his face.  
Color flooded into the smaller man’s cheeks, as he realized that the hitman was dead serious.  
Victor reached out, then, his hand closing over Oswald’s, and as he felt the pulse flutter in the penguin’s wrist, he couldn’t look him into the eyes. He only wanted to touch the other man’s hand for a long time now. To feel the warmth of his skin and assure his own shaking fingers, his own arching heart.  
He could feel Penguin’s gaze upon him.  
“We could go to a club and eat something,” he added a bit unsure of the outcome.  
“I mean.. if you want to,” he paused, his voice cracking a little bit,” sure.”  
Oswald pulled his hand free and rubbed his back. He was grateful for the change of focus.  
Victor slowly nodded.   
“I’m gonna sent you a date and time. But please promise me to keep your head out of trouble for a few days.”  
“I don’t like orders, Victor.”  
“I know, but it would be a waste if you wouldn’t make it.”  
Oswald stayed silent. As he looked up he had the same expression, as he had earlier, eyes filled with fear.  
“I just want to get out of here, Victor. I can’t take another heartbreak.”  
“Right,” the taller man said, in thought, “Just stay out of Jim’s and Barbara’s business.”  
Oswald scoffed and put his arms around his knees, squeezing as tight as possible.  
“Thank you for coming today, Victor.”  
“It’s always a pleasure,” he said, flashing a childlike grin.

—————————

Oswald stopped when he saw the neon signs at the end of the alley, signaling the entrance of the disco, Victor had chosen. His brown crinkled. He had known that this was an awful idea from the start, but he had promised that he would trust Victor. And the worst thing that could happen is that Victor had meant ‘take out’ like in taking somebody out with a sniper.  
This night club once was an odd little tavern. It’s walls were dingy and its floors were stained, and Oswald knew for a fact that it’s owner watered down the drinks, but despite it all, everyone kept coming back. Now it felt like he has entered a different world. The dirty streets of Gotham had a feeling to them that made you feel like giving up, that there was no happy end to your story. This disco was different. The dancing people and the lights gave this city an element of fun.  
It fascinated him how Victor had changed it’s appearance completely. It’s grungy appearance and grungier customers had changed completely over the years. In the middle of the room was a dance floor, colored in blueish and pinkish tones. The walls looked like they were painted by a child, but it fit the aesthetic. A few people were dancing, neon lights lighting the room up. Even the smell had changed. For him it smelled like sugar and blood.  
Oswald found Victor sitting under a tall neon sign, saying ‘Paradise’ in cursive red letters. He looked so confident in this atmosphere, he had almost not recognized him.   
Victor noticed he had changed from his usual clothing. Now he was wearing a grey, blueish shirt and black jeans.

Oswald hesitated. He could still go home. This was not his scene.  
Go home, thought Oswald. He turned around to walk right back out.  
“Hi, Oswald,” came a voice behind him. Oswald turned slowly.  
“This place is,” he stopped to think of a word, that wouldn’t be too impolite,” interesting.”  
Victor cocked his head.   
“Come,” said the hitman, turning to lead Oswald to the dance floor.  
“I don’t dance,” he said, almost not audible, with the loud music playing in the back, but Victor understood.  
He nodded, eyes narrowing.  
As they sat down, were Victor was sitting earlier, Oswald let out a small sigh of relief.  
“Then let’s get down to business.”  
“What do you know?” demanded Oswald. “Do you know what they did to Ed?”  
“Put a chip in his brain. Heard some Walker did it. I don’t know.”  
“Then it was not my fault,” said Oswald, hoping that was true.  
“And Jim deactivated it. Thompkins had one too, but they removed it.”  
Oswald was shaking his head. “Tell me who else they plan to put such a thing into,”he said.  
Victor froze. “That’s one reason I wanted to talk.”  
Heavy silence fell between them. Victor held his gaze. And then, finally, his lips drew into a small smile, twisting his face in a way that made it look like someone else’s.  
He opened his mouth to add something, when one of Victor’s girls came to their table to put two milkshakes in front of them.  
Oswald’s eyed the drink I front of him. Victor had noticed him, when he came in and turned around again. He had seen that Oswald was not happy about his choice and he saw that he did not like the idea of milkshakes.  
This was a disaster, but that is what they are. What their relationship was.  
Victor bit his lip and watched as Oswald put the straw between his lips, just to give it a chance.  
“They are very sweet.”  
“Yeah. Mission accomplished, right?”  
Oswald laughed at that. It was not a bright laugh, but a short giggle.  
“I prefer something different, but I appreciate the change.”  
Oswald seemed different today. But he thought it was lovely. Usually Oswald Cobblepot was a force. A force with short legs and the most severe case of mood swings that Victor had ever encountered.

The two of them sat in the growing noise of the disco and drank and made mindless conversations, even though Victor desperately wanted to dance with Oswald. Oswald knew how to articulate that he was not a dancer, but Victor was and at some point sitting became maddening and his feet became numb. With every breath he took, where he should have felt comfort, the sadness only increased. It felt like his entire body was upset and unnerved all the way to the core. Maybe he was just too dramatic. So he stood up and joined his girls on the dance floor.

Oswald used to watched him. But it was not until their third meeting that he had chosen to prove himself. It was almost like a dream. Victor couldn’t remember to ask him out so many times already. Their time together was just a blur of... disappointment.  
Every time both went home, followed by the uncomfortable silence and the sweet scent of sugar. Even though it had started a mess it was getting better every time, because they slowly grew together. 

The penguin had noticed that Victor was a great dancer. His dance style was a bit chaotic, but the movements looked smooth at the same time. It was so funny to watch, they should have given him a show for himself. He kind of wanted to learn to have the confidence, doing such a bizarre thing. Every move was placed perfectly with the highs and lows of the songs, it felt like a poem, addressed to him.He recognized some girls in the crowd, who had been with Victor before. They were wonderful dancers, too, but Victor outshone them all. It was almost morning and most people have gone home when he finally chose to join him. 

Oswald was not a good dancer. His bad leg made it look a little clumsy, but Victor didn’t care. His face showed determination and the power to rule the world. And it was like his light was shining through. He did not know how he was so familiar, or why it felt like he was getting to know him and more as though he was remembering who Oswald was. How every smile, every whisper brought him closer to the impossible conclusion that he has known him before, he had loved him before, in a different place, or some other existence. There could have been a chance for them then.

By now he couldn’t even tell what song was playing, because he was focused on the smaller man, moving beside him. Their shoulders and feet touching from time to time.  
“Don’t you dare let me sit alone again,” Oswald mouthed, catching Victor stare at him.  
“Promise.”  
“Come here,” Victor said, giving one of his girls a short sign, who lowered the music and put something slower on.  
Oswald first shook his head and rolled his eyes, but came closer.  
“Let’s get it a bit more sexy in here. It almost felt like a senior bingo club meeting, and that is not my cup of tea.”  
Laughing he pulled Oswald near, resting his arms around the smaller man’s waist.  
“If my day gets any worse, Victor, I’m asking hell if they’re having an exchange program,” Penguin snapped at him, blushing a little and burying his face in Victor’s shirt. He swallowed, closing his eyes at the gentle brush of fingertips along his cheek, turning his face away. Oswald smelled like spring, he smelled like sugar and rust. It smelled like home.  
Victor smiled viciously.  
“That’s funny. Send me a postcard.”  
They were still swaying with the beat and insulting each other, when Victor decided that it was enough for the day.   
“Look at you!” he said, stepping back to look Oswald over. “You are all tired.”  
Oswald shook his head, yawning into his hand. “I’m fine.”  
“Let’s get you home.” He extended his hand and Oswald grabbed it thankfully, his cheeks getting hot again.

The cold wind hit them in the face, as they entered the main street. The warmth of another body like a memory in the wind.   
He wanted silence. Victor was tired of voices and thought processes and emotions and brain waves.  
He wanted the trees and their soft whispers to guide him, and only a warm hand holding his. He knew Oswald didn’t understand yet, the silence made him nervous.  
“Have you thought about the thing that happened to your little boyfriend?”, he said softly, the storm swallowing his words.  
Oswald shrugged. “Yes I have. And I have thought about these poor, innocent souls.”  
“That’s not what I meant. I meant the thing with Hugo Strange.”  
Oswald frowned, and looked up at Victor.  
“Please go on.”  
“You know there is a possibility that they have put a chip in my brain already, right?”  
Oswald clearly hadn’t expected that. He stared at the taller man for a few seconds.   
“Since when do you care about such things? And why do you think it is important to tell me that exactly?”  
“Because they could use me to kill like... everyone,” Victor said, shrugging sarcastically.  
“Yes sure, Victor, they surely could have, but there is no reason for me to know that. That is not my business.”  
“I’m not joking, Oswald. This,” he pointed to his head,” is slightly important to me.”  
“As I remember you did not help me when I needed help, but I am not going to ignore information including your problem in the future. That’s everything I can do. You are welcome.”  
Victor stopped, letting go of Oswald’s hand.  
“Maybe you should go.”  
“Seriously? What did you expect? Oh poor Victor. That’s so sad?!”  
“Careful.”  
“No. You should be careful. This is not your story, Victor.”

Victor suddenly felt like a ghost. What had he thought. Everything had worked just fine up to this point.  
But this? It wasn’t working. For the first time, panic filled Victor’s mouth like bile. He swallowed, and resumed compression.  
He had thought Oswald would offer him help. He was running out of chances.

“Such a disappointment when you defend someone for so long, thinking they are different and they tun out to be just like what everyone said, you know? That Sucks.” He turned around and walked back, where they came from.  
“Seriously? You are not going to go home now, are you?”  
“Yeah! You are boring.”  
“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” Oswald screamed, hurrying after him. He grabbed Victor’s wrist, holding him back.  
That took him by surprise. He whirled around with such a force, that could barely could stop him.  
And when he saw Oswald like this his heart dropped to the floor. His eyes pressed shut and shoulders tense as the hitman’s hand rested in the air, just a few centimeters from his head.  
He was not going to hurt him. Not today.

Victor rested both of his hands on the sides of The smaller man’s face, kissing his forehead and his nose tip.  
“I am sorry,” he whispered softly, his voice breaking a little.  
“Don’t you dare give up on me? Do you hear me? This is not over!”  
Oswald grabbed his hands with an urgency that took him by surprise.  
“Please don’t give up on me.” His voice was only a whisper by the end.   
But his hands left Oswald’s face and as the penguin opened his eyes he was the only one standing there.  
“Please don’t leave me.”  
Oswald stood very still. How much sorrow could he take?  
He wanted to listen to footsteps in the distance, but there was only the whistle of the wind.  
Then he forced himself to turn and leave. And he felt his eyes filled with tears, wondering why he felt so strongly for a man, who did not know anything apart death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope the story fits your expectations!!  
> This was inspired by some poems I found and Billie eilish.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually a horrible story... I’m not very creative, but I need more Zsasz/Penguin in my life.  
> Well I hope you enjoyed it at least a little bit.  
> I would be happy about some feedback.


End file.
